


Devil's Pinches

by darkangel_silvermoon



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, sperek - Freeform, tw:self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel_silvermoon/pseuds/darkangel_silvermoon
Summary: Spencer bites his bottom lip- hissing as his forearm grazes the blunt edge of his desk. He can feel Morgan's eyes on him; he has his full attention.Spencer curses internally as he fights the urge to cradle his arm. Instead, he takes a deep breath, puts on a blank face-going back to his paperwork.Everything's fine, right?





	1. Chapter 1

Derek is observant to say the least.

He presses his head against the window of the jet, slipping into his headphones.

Spencer's across from him, arm draped around his middle, his body is rigid as if he'd shoot out his seat any moment.

In the past couple of months the shadows under his eyes have gotten darker; his limbs a twitching mess, even when he's still.

Derek knows he shouldn't pry, the kid will tell him when he's ready. 

He hates this though. 

Derek can see it in the way Spencer's shoulders sag, the way his eyes never quite reach anyone. 

The bubbly, goofy Doctor is slipping away, and a shell is being left in his place.

Spencer's arm presses against the seat. He tamps down the urge to scream. 

Derek frowns as he catches a mask of pain crack Spencer's face.

"Kid, you alright?" Derek whispers low, pulling his headphones off.

As soon as the look is there, it's gone. Reid's eyes are hollow as he sits up.

He swallows hard, nodding his head, "yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine."

Derek feels as if someone's laced his veins with ice. He knows that tone of voice.

"Reid, you remember our deal, right?" Derek's voice pinched with worry.

Spencer curls in on himself.

"Yeah." He whispers, cradling his arm to his chest.

Derek can't help it; he cares for the kid.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything is fine.

Spencer smirks into his coffee mug as Garcia and Derek argue about the practicality of Doctor Who. (Everyone knows Derek is a fan of the series, but no one's supposed to acknowledge it. Ever.)

He catches Derek's eye and they burst into giggles— everything's okay.

Derek reaches over and ruffles Spencer's hair.

Some things never change.

/

Derek's propped up on his couch, eyes drooping after a long day's work. 

The football game muted roar wraps around him as the blue light from the television floods the sitting room.

He hears the click of the back door unlocking and he tenses; Clooney lets out a drowsy woof at the foot of the couch, resting his head back on his paws.

Derek hears a bag dropping and shoes thudding against linoleum. His shoulders unclench as a head peaks around the corner.

"Hey, Pretty Boy." Derek murmurs as Spencer gives him a tight-lipped smile and a short wave. Derek pats the cushion next to him, shifting to make room for Spencer.

Clooney shakes hard, hopping off the couch when Spencer shuffles his way over. The dog nudges Spencer's hand and Spencer runs it over the Clooney's head; Clooney pads away to find somewhere more comfortable to crash.

Spencer sits next to Derek, back stiff as he plants his feet on the floor. He stares at the screen in front of them, eyes glazed. 

Derek holds his breathe as he takes a glance over at Spencer; dark rings like bruises settle under Spencer's eyes, his jaw tense as wraps his hands around his middle.

Derek sighs, touching Spencer shoulder; he can feel Spencer shudder under his touch.

"Reid?" Derek whispers, an edge of concern creeps into his voice. Spencer snaps out of his revelry, and gives Derek another wary smile.

"Sorry for dropping in on you like this, it's just…" Spencer bites his bottom lip, eyes cast down at his hands that bunch the ends of his sweater in a tight grip.

Spencer's breathe hitches. "I don't want"—

"It's okay, Reid. You're just in time for a rerun; I think BBC's doing a mini marathon of the Eleventh Doctor," Derek gives Spencer a nudge with his shoulder, "up for it?"

Derek doesn't wait for an answer, instead making his way to the kitchen. He sets the kettle on for tea and grabs a few snacks. He places his spread on a tray, preparing cups Reid and his self. Spencer's right where he'd left him.

Worry claws at the pit of Morgan's stomach, but he pushes it away. Spencer came to him.

They both know the deal.

Not too many questions asked, the other will open up when they're ready.

Derek places the tray on the coffee table and grabs a large blanket from a basket next to the couch, covering both their legs. Spencer sniffs, pursing his lips as he looks at Derek.

Derek laughs, arranging their limbs and blanket until they are both covered and he's spooned behind Spencer; arm resting around Spencer's middle, anchoring him to the couch.

Spencer sighs, body finally relaxing against Derek.

Derek flips through the channels until he finds the Doctor, opening credits flashing across the screen.

"I've seen this one." Spencer mumbles, it's as if he can feel Derek smiling behind him.

Derek rests his chin on top Spencer's head, settling in for the show.

/

Spencer blinks awake, television still going.

Derek's still wrapped around him, head pressed against his.

Spencer's chest aches, as if he can't get enough breathe. He slips from under Morgan's grip, slowly making his way to the bathroom.

He flicks on the light as the feeling of dread creeps through him.

He refuses to meet his own eyes in the mirror, instead rolling his sleeves up.

Another bruise blooms on pale skin.

Spencer knows the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You his is another repost from my FF.net account. I'm trying to slowly migrate all my fics to this account after I fix them up. Let me know what you think of this one. Feedback is greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so trigger warning: This does include self harm. Not sure if this is concidered graphic, but there is no blood or cutting. Read at your own discresion.(i won't mind if you put this fic down now.)

It's getting under everyone's skin;the pale eyes of young men staring blankly from their shallow graves.

There hasn't been any fresh leads in a while and it's grating on the teams nerves.

Derek watches Spencer from the corner of his eye as he works on his geographic profile.

The dark circles under Spencer's eyes haven't left since he'd stayed with Derek that night. Derek grits his teeth, because he knows Spencer's not okay. But he can't push it anymore in case Spencer decides to shut him out completely.

Spencer grips his upper arms, nails digging into his own biceps as he stares at the photos posted on the boards next to the maps.

Derek feels sick as Spencer winces, letting his arms dangle at his sides. Something's not...

"Kid, you-" Derek starts; Spencer shivers, twining his fingers in the end of his sleeves.

"I'm fine Morgan." Spencer lashes out. He lets out a shaking breathe, fists clenched tight at his sides.

"They're my age. All of them." Spencer's voice tight. His shoulders tremble as he angles himself away from Derek.

"Reid, man. It's not-"

"I fit the victim profile. Males, late twenties to early thirties, socially isolated, past history with addiction..." His voice waivers as the shaking gets worse. 

Derek's chest aches as he stares at the victim's pictures lined up, Spencer's reflection in the glass. 

He looks so worn.

"Reid. You're not-" Spencer cut Derek off.

"I'm not asking for your pity." Spencer's voice cutting.

He turns on his heels, face splotchy as he presses past Derek, darting to the nearest restroom.

Derek's chest feels hollow as he watches Spence disappear.

/

Derek pushes the restroom's door open. His lips set in a thin line as he makes sense of what he's witnessing.

Spencer's staring at his reflection in the bathroom's mirror, sleeves rolled up as he pinches the skin on his forearm. 

Grasps the tight skin between his fingers; twists and pinches until there's a furiously red spot of skin.

He grits his teeth, sound begging to be let out as he goes again and again.

Struggling. Flailing. Failing.

Derek's feet remain planted as his stomach pitches.

There are bruises.

Everywhere.

Spencer gives a small cry as he mashes his finger into a purple spot near the inside of his elbow; body trembling as he grips the sides of the sink. His breath coming fast and hard, filling the room.

"Reid?" Derek's voice filled with panic.

Spencer turns his head slowly, eyes glassy and wide.

"Reid, what are you doing?" Derek tries to keep his voice calm, but the panic's rising, full blown terror threatening to consume him.

Spencer shakes his head, eyes sliding back over his face in the mirror. His finger's find their way back to his arms,pressing into another bruise.

"Pretty boy." Derek's voice soft.

Spencer hisses, face going red.

"Get out." Spencer whispers.

"Reid I can't do that." Derek says firmly. Spencer grits his teeth.

"Get. Out. Now." Spencer says through clenched teeth as Derek makes his way toward Spence.

"Get out! Leave me alone!" Spencer seethes as Derek's on him. He pounds against Derek's body, pummeling him with shaking fists as Derek pulls him into his chest.

Spencer's breath ragged as he cries.

Derek cups Spencer's jaw, sliding his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing small circles from the base of his skull to the top of his spine. His other arm slides across Spencer's waist, gripping his hip tightly.

Spencer's whole frame tremors as he presses his mouth against Derek's shoulder, teeth grazing the soft cotton off Derek's shirt as he screams. His eyes screwed tight as he digs his bony fingers into Derek's sides.

Derek presses his lips to Spencer's temple, hand sliding up into Reid's fine hair.

"It's gonna be okay, Pretty boy." Derek whispers into the top of Spencer's head. Spencer grips the material of Derek's shirt for dear life. Derek rocks their bodies from side to side as Spencer sags against him.

Derek's just trying to hold him together.


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer can not breathe.

It's as if someone's decided to straddle his chest; wrap their fingers around his throat and squeeze.

He shivers under blankets as his own hand scrabbles to his throat- flailing as he tries to catch a breath.

Fuck.

His eyes bulge as his chest barely rises; knuckles white, his fingers tremble at his collar.

He yanks at his shirt, another pair of hands jerk the shirt over his head.

Spencer gasps and coughs; taking in as much air as he can.

There's a high pitched whine mingling with the thready pulse of his heart singing in his ear.

A calloused, warm hand makes it's way up his spine; thumb skating from the base of his skull to each vertebrae in his back, over and over until the touch melds together.

Eventually his breathing calms, his mind wiped clean from exhaustion. He curls into to body next to him as a calloused finger caresses the contours of his tear-tracked face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter deals with/mentions self harm. (If that makes you uncomfortable I don't mind if you put the story down now.)
> 
> Thanks for you time

Spencer wishes the bed would swallow him whole. He knows where he is, and he's kicking himself for it.

He hears the soft jangle of Clooney's dog chain- the sputtering coffee pot in the kitchen.

His bare back presses against worn cotton; he curses himself internally.

Spencer turns over to find Derek staring at him. 

Spencer snakes a hand up from under the cocoon of sheets to poke Derek in the center of his forehead.

"Hey Kid." Derek murmurs, a smile creeping into his voice. "Set the pot last night, wanna cup?"

Spencer shakes his head no, not yet. 

Derek's raises his brow in shock, a mocking smile settling on his lips.

Spencer grins back; the chapped, thin skin on his bottom pulls, splitting down the middle.

Derek frowns, swiping his thumb over Spence's lip' smearing the speckles of blood.

"'m sorry." Spencer whispers,his eyes hot as he squeezes them shut. He takes his lip between his teeth and bites down hard, twisting his head to press his face in the pillow.

"Reid? Come on baby boy, open those beautiful brown eyes for me." Derek coaxes, running his thumb against the imprint of Spencer's teeth on skin. He rakes his fingers through Spencer's hair. 

Spencer's whole body's warm, blush spreading.

"You saw?" Spencer's breath hitches as his gaze finds Derek's. 

Derek shifts on his side, running the tips of his fingers along the slender column of Spencer's neck.

"Yeah." Derek's gaze sweeps over Spencer's face. Spencer bites down hard again, willing himself not to scream.

"Most of them are old...fading." Spencer's voice worn, tired.

"Kid, you don't have to talk about if you don't want to." Derek runs his hand along Spencer's shoulder.

"Well, that'd be the easy way out; but if I do talk, maybe the elephant sitting on my chest would budge up a bit." Spencer says.

"'m all ears then." Derek ruffles Spencer's hair, letting his hand rest at the crown of his head.

Spencer plucks at he corner of he pillow he's craddling.

" I've been doing it as long as I can remember...another way to deal with stress. To escape pain...to cause pain...so...utilitarian. I mean, as a kid, what's one more bruise hidden in sweaters? One that wasn't put there by someone else. One that I deserved. One to block out jibes and blows from my classmates. One for failure when I can't catch on. One when I am more trouble than I'm worth. One to numb me when I feel too much. One to make me feel alive... like I'm here, this is real. I'm in pain and here's the physical mark to prove it. It's addictive-easier to hide than the drug abuse." Spencer's knuckles go white as he grips the pillow beneath him, breath hitching as he squeezes his eyes shut.

"The rational part of me knows that the self-injury makes no sense; it's making my situation worse than ever. Most days are better than others. But some days it doesn't matter. It's just easier to give in."

Tears fall in earnest, Spencer stubbornly swipes at his face to clear them away.

Derek rolls over, reaching over to the night stand, pulling off a couple of sheets of Kleenex. 

He sits up completely, pulling Spencer with him until his arm's wrapped around Spencer's middle. 

Spencer rests his head against Derek's chest, tucking his hand behind Derek. Derek gently wipes the tears from Spence's face.

"I'm sorry for putting this all on you. It isn't fair to you." Spencer whispers.

"Kid. Look at me?" Derek asks. 

Spencer tilts his head. 

"You're a pin-feather. This is what friends are for. Lean on me when you need to." Derek squeezes Spencer to him, giving a small smile.

"But you're always giving so much, you shouldn't have to."

"I don't like to see you hurt." Derek laces his fingers through Spencer's. 

"Just like with the nightmares and the drugs, I'm not going anywhere. You need me, I'm there. Got it?" Derek gives Spencer a full-blown smile, and Spencer ducks his head.

"Got it." Spencer ascents.

"For a genius , you got a pretty thick skull." Derek teases. Spence lets out a huffy breath, teasing back.

Spencer stiffens.

"Um...Derek...can I have my shirt?" Spencer crosses his arms in front of him. Derek untangled himself from Spencer, leaning over the side of the bed. He hands Spencer the shirt, who tugs it quickly over his head, wincing as he puts pressure on some of the fresh bruises.

"Thanks. For everything." Spencer whispers.

"No problem pretty boy." Derek says. He only hopes he's making any difference.


End file.
